The Fall of Mountain Glenn
by Jus Sum Dude
Summary: This is not a tale of RWBY. This is not a tale of JNPR. This is not even a tale of Beacon, Vale, or even Remnant really. This is the tale of a few brave men and women and how they died. This is the tale of the Fall of Mountain Glenn.


A man with blonde hair and green eyes sat on the walls of Mountain Glenn, one foot up so his arm could rest on his upturned knee, while the other leg dangled dangerously off the edge. He wore simple white armor plates on top of a simple shirt and jacket. Although he appeared relaxed, a more observant individual would notice the tenseness in his tall, muscular frame. This particular wall had been nicknamed the Cliff Wall. Unlike the other three, this one had been built right on the edge of a sheer vertical drop, hence the name. While the other walls were still vulnerable to attack, this one was relatively safe, as terrestrial Grimm would have to scale the cliff first to attack it. It also had the best view. Or the worst. It all depended.

Right now Gregory Arc would've had to declare it the second. Even from here, almost half a mile away, in the late afternoon sun his trained eyes could see them. Looming over the trees he could make out their massive, black bodies, ivory bone plates, and tusks that could pierce tank armor. Then one of them turned, and for a moment they locked eyes. Verdant emerald met burning red and Gregory gripped Crocea Mors just a little bit tighter. But the worst part was the sound. Eventually most Huntsmen learn to discern the sounds made by Grimm, and after a while you stop considering the lower-level Grimm as a threat anymore. The barks and growls of Beowulfs, the cawing of Nevermores, the roars of Ursi, the snapping of Deathstalkers, it all blended together into this cacophony of annoyance. An evil annoyance that could still slaughter entire villages of regular civilians, but a mere annoyance nonetheless. Even the giant ones were just scaled up versions of these pests, requiring a little more effort and coordination, but more or less the same techniques to take down. But Goliaths? Goliaths were a different story altogether. It wasn't their size that got to you, nor was it their strength or their ability to shrug off artillery fire. No, what got to him personally was the sound they made. This low, deep moaning that echoed far and wide like the mournful songs of whales or the rumble of an approaching storm. In Arc's mind the sad sound was like some perverse funeral hymn, a grievous melody for the hundreds of lives the beast had taken. Or perhaps for the hundreds more it had yet to take.

As he thought it that very same sound drifted across the forest and crept its way into his eardrums. It sent shivers down the veteran Huntsman's spine. Luckily the walls were insulated so the people inside wouldn't hear it, but Arc hated it, and everything else about them. Their ponderous walk, their lumbering swagger, and that awful, horrid, disgusting, loathsome sound! It plunged his soul into despair, and worst of all it did so not because he didn't understand what it meant, like the superstitious, insubstantial fears of a child hiding under the covers. He had seen these things up close and personal, even fought one and walked away. It affected him because deep down he knew _exactly_ what it meant. It meant he could kill as many Grimm as he wanted. He could slaughter entire legions of Barbatusks, kill enough Taijitu to tie them end to end and encircle the planet, and in the end it would mean nothing. Because the Goliaths were there, and they would always be there. As long as he lived they would be there, and when he was dead and gone they would be there, when his gravestone crumbled into Dust they would be there, and when the very memory of him was swallowed up by the eons they would still be there. But humanity might not be. These Grimm were ancient, practically immortal, and no matter how advanced the technology got, no matter how skilled the Huntsmen became, the Grimm would always have the most powerful allies of them all on their side. Time and Patience. Sometimes Arc felt like all his efforts were just delaying the inevitable. Because that's what their victory was. Inevit-

"Dad!"

Gregor was shocked out of his reverie by a small, brown-haired boy with green eyes, a messy pair of blue jeans, and an even messier t-shirt running up to him. Before he knew it a pair of spindly little arms had wrapped themselves around his neck and he was too busy engulfing his son in an enormous bear hug to remember that children, indeed civilians of any sort, were not allowed on the ramparts.

"Uriah!" shouted a tall woman with red hair, blue eyes, and teal-colored armor on top of her boots, shirt, tie, and pants. This severe-looking young woman had no problem remembering.

"Uh-oh…" came the reply. Whether it was the father or son who said it was up for debate.

She stood with her hands on her hips and a clearly disapproving look that seemed to be aimed at both of them. The two boys withered before her gaze.

"Umm… sorry Ms. Storm…" said Uriah, apologizing as best he could despite his utter terror.

The lady sighed before gesturing to a nearby soldier and ordering him to escort the child back to the schoolyard. As soon as the two of them were out of sight, she resumed looking disapprovingly at Uriah Arc's father.

"So…" said Gregor, unsure as to how to proceed. He'd been trained to hunt Grimm, not defuse women who doubled as explosive devices.

"Greg!"

"Natalie," he replied, with as much nonchalant attitude as he could muster.

Natalie Storm gave another sigh. Greg was doing that thing again where he stayed as calm as possible until she stopped being angry.

"Look, if you're going to bring children into this Grimm-infested wilderness, you can at least make sure they don't run wild." The sad bit was it worked. Every. Freaking. Time.

"They're kids," replied Greg, still as chill as ever. "Running wild is kind of their thing. Besides, they're vital to this operation. Having their families around means the workers don't get homesick. That means the work gets done quicker and more efficiently. More importantly it keeps the men from getting agitated. Agitation leads to argument. Argument breeds negativity. And negativity-"

"Attracts Grimm, you've already explained this to me!" finished an ever-exasperated Natalie.

"Oh," replied Arc, embarrassed at his own digression.

Natalie shook her head, but while Greg kept looking down at his feet she couldn't help but smile a little. The man could be a bit of a chatterbox, but that was because he liked to explain things. It was a weird quirk, but she figured he just liked the sound of his own voice. To be fair, it was a cool voice. He could totally do voiceovers for movie trailers if his Huntsman career ever got too exciting. In fact…

"Okay, how about this?" she asked. "You teach at the schoolyard with me."

"What?" replied Greg after he was sure he hadn't misheard.

"That way you can keep an eye on Uriah, and I can have a little bit more help in the schoolyard. Plus, Uriah won't be sneaking away anymore, since his dad will be right there."

"Hmm… I don't know." Arc had enough problems looking after his own kid. But an entire classroom full?! That might be a bit much.

"Come on Greg," said Natalie, rolling her eyes. "You'll make a great teacher. Remember when you tutored me in History?"

"Yeah," replied Greg, smiling fondly as he remembered their time at Beacon together. "Math too."

"Yup."

"And Physics."

"Uh-huh."

"Biology."

"Yeah."

"Grimm Studies."

"Well-"

"Civics."

"We really shouldn't dwell-"

"Atlasien Literature."

"Well I don't think-"

"Chemistry."

"Now that's a little unfair-"

"Calculus."

"Hey, the quadratic equation can bite my-"

"Principles of Dust."

"Well if Professor Schnee wasn't so-"

"Family Stud-"

"ALRIGHT, I GET IT!"

She most certainly did, her Semblance triggering a small explosion above both of them. Most of the soldiers and workmen looked up with alarm, worried this was the start of an attack. The Huntsmen and Huntresses meanwhile just smiled and didn't even stop what they were doing.

"So are you going to help me out or not?" asked Natalie, done with this conversation in pretty much every possible way she could be done.

"Alright, I'll do it," answered Greg, reaching up. Natalie grasped his hand as she helped pull him onto his feet. "On one condition," added Mountain Glenn's Chief of Security.

"Oh?" she replied warily.

"Would you go out with me?"

By now the sun was already beginning to set. A rosy glow began to replace the burning orb up above, and you could just make out the shattered moon as it made its ascent through the still blue sky. Far off, the haunting sound of the Goliaths still echoed, but right now it was dwarfed by the sound of Natalie Storm's answer to Gregory Arc's requested date.

SMACK!

"Ow!"

"Fine…"


End file.
